


Copyright Infringement

by Anarchyduck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, drugged, implied human trafficking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 13:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyduck/pseuds/Anarchyduck
Summary: Peter’s arms snap to his side as his heels click together. He struggles to get out of it, whatever this is, as the Big Guy laughs again.“Spider-Man say hello to Blood Bender.” he nods to the shorter guy standing beside him.“B-Blood Bender? Like, from Avatar the Last Airbender?” Peter lets out a strained laugh. “Seriously? Isn’t that like copyrighted? Better not let Nickelodeon hear you. Don’t think they’d like to be associated with a dru-“His throat constricts close.OR: Peter gets in over his head, kidnapped, and is rescued by the most unlikely (or likely?) person.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Copyright Infringement

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to [ damtoti ](/users/damtoti/) for help, inspiration, and patience as I kept barging into your DM over discord. ♥♥♥

Peter is mid-swing when he hears a sharp whistle and someone shout, “Hey! Spider-Man!”

He lands on the edge of a nearby building and turns, surveying the sidewalks and road below until he spots some guy waving his arm to get his attention. Though it isn’t unusual now for someone to spot him swinging around, Peter still feels that strange excitable sensation. It’s always nice to be recognized by locals. Sometimes he even gets free food out which is always a bonus.

The guy waves him over and Peter doesn’t think twice as he steps off the ledge and swings across the street.

“Hey, what’s up?” Peter asks as he swings down from a light pole. “Any trouble?”

The guy, older with scruff and striped scarf, nods. “Maybe. Back at the bar, overheard some guys talking about a drug deal happening over by Hell Gate Bridge. I’d go to the cops, but I doubt they’d follow through, ya know?” he shrugs his shoulders. “I got family in the neighborhood and I don’t want any more of that shit out here. Can you check it out?”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, man, I got this. Thanks dude!” Peter flashes the guy a thumbs up as he spins on heel and sends a web up to pull himself back into the air.

Finally! Some real action! This week has been so dull that he began to think all the criminals were on vacation. Which, yeah, less crime in the borough is great! Who would ever complain about less crime? But it sure did make for boring patrol nights. “Karen, can you map out the quickest route to Hells Gate Bridge? I want to get there before these guys do.”

 _“Sure thing, Peter.”_ his AI chirps in reply. A small map pops up in the corner of his display with a red line leading towards Astoria Park. _“Hang a left at the next intersection.”_

“Thanks, K.” he grins as he swings around the building.

* * *

He’s still waiting. Thirty whole minutes of wait time and still nothing.

Peter blows out a sigh as he drums his fingers against the concrete pillar he’s sitting on. Scarf Guy told him the place, but he conveniently left out the time, a detail Peter realizes now he should have asked before running off. Good job, Parker.

“Picking anything up, Karen?” he asks.

 _“Nothing yet.”_ she says. _“But I’m obligated to remind you that your curfew begins in forty-five minutes. If you leave now, you will arrive two minutes before 11.”_

Peter really doesn’t want to go, just in case he misses the drug dealers, but he knows May will freak if he’s late. The last thing he wants is to disappoint her again. Peter sighs. “Yeah, I guess.” He leaps off the side and lands on the ground below. “Karen, remind me next time to get a time for the next supposed drug deal.” He kicks a rock and watches as it skips onto the nearby cricket field.

_“Reminder created.”_

“Okay, let’s…” Peter trails off as the hairs on the back of his neck stands on end. He turns just as a vehicle pulls up, headlights briefly blinding him. It stops and Peter hears the doors squeak open as four guys climb out of the black van.

Perfect.

“Hey fellas, thought I missed you.” Peter tilts his head as he looks at the van. “Have to say though, dark van? Drug deal under a bridge in the middle of the night? Feeding right into a stereotype. Have you considered mixing it up a little?”

There’s a brief pause before the biggest guy of the four looks at the driver. “Yeah, that’s him. I’d know that smart mouth anywhere.”

Peter raises a brow behind his mask. “What, were you expecting someone else?” he looks at the Big Guy, eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait… aren’t you that mugger I stopped last week?”

Big Guy clicks his tongue. “Been waitin’ all week to see you again, bug.”

“Mc’scuse me? It’s _arachnid_ to you, buddy.”

Movement catches his eye – guy standing beside the driver reaches behind him and Peter catches the glint of a gun. He shoots a web at him, strikes the guy in the face and sends another to pull his feet out from under him. Peter shoots a line upwards into the rafters to pull himself up.

“Maybe you guys ought to find a different profession!” he hollers down at the group. He ducks as Van Driver starts shooting at him, the bullets ricocheting off the metal beams and bars as Peter ducks and dodges. He leaps down and uses the beams to give him that extra swinging boost as he rounds the van and kicks the Driver in the face. The impact is enough to send the guy sprawling on the ground and Peter shoots another web to pin him there.

Peter grins. Two down, only two to go! If it keeps up like this, he’ll be able to get home before curfew.

Yet, as Peter rounds to take down the Big Guy, his body locks up. “What the-“ he gasps, his body trembling as he struggles against whatever invisible force holds him. His arm twists suddenly and he cries out in shock as he’s lifted off the ground and thrown back, striking the concrete pillar.

Peter’s world spins as dark spots cloud his vision. For a second, nothing happens.

Then he falls.

He flails out on instinct in an attempt to catch himself, but his limbs feel like jelly. He lands hard amongst the rocks and debris, ears ringing so loud he can barely make out what Karen is saying.

_Possible concussion detected._

Shaking, Peter pushes himself up. The back of his neck burns, spidey sense screaming for him to look up. When he does, he sees the last remaining guy’s approach. Standing beside Big Guy is a shorter fellow with an eyebrow piercing and blank expression. Peter lifts his arm, fingers close to the button of his web shooter, when the Big Guy laughs.

“Don’t think so.” He snaps his fingers.

Instantly, the muscles in Peter’s arm lock up again then twists. He stumbles with the jerky movements, feeling more like a puppet on strings than in control. Because that’s exactly what it is. Something is controlling him.

Or someone.

Peter’s arms snap to his side as his heels click together. He struggles to get out of it, whatever this is, as the Big Guy laughs again.

“Spider-Man say hello to Blood Bender.” he nods to the shorter guy standing beside him.

“B-Blood Bender? Like, from Avatar the Last Airbender?” Peter lets out a strained laugh. “Seriously? Isn’t that like copyrighted? Better not let Nickelodeon hear you. Don’t think they’d like to be associated with a dru-“

His throat constricts close. Peter chokes on the last word, mouth gaping like a fish. He can’t breathe. He can’t _move_. Blood Bender stands before him, arm outstretched and makes a gesture with his hand. Peter’s legs give out beneath him, forcing him to his knees.

Every second is agony. His lungs burn and no matter what he does, he can’t break free. Panic bleeds into his mind. His back arches painfully as his arms contort and twist so much Peter is sure they’re about to break.

Darkness creeps into his vision. The world becomes blurry and watery and Peter wonders if this is it. Is this how he dies?

Then it’s gone.

Peter collapses, coughing and gasping for precious air. He can’t hear anything, not even Karen in his ear, or what could be Mr. Stark.

_Get up, Parker. Get up. You can’t win this._

Gravel crunches beneath heavy feet and Peter puts a hand up. “D-Don’t…” 

“Finish it.”

Peter feels a flash of white-hot pain and then nothing more.

* * *

Awareness returns to him slowly. Muddles voices speak above him, somewhere in the bright light. His body feels heavy. Limbs made of lead. He can’t move them.

 _“Think he’s comin’ around.”_ A voice speaks above, and Peter thinks it’s familiar. It’s hard to think.

His mask slides up and off his face. “Tha’s a no no…” The faintest spark of fear fires off in his brain and he knows he should be terrified. Bright light, unknown voices, and someone has taken his mask. But his brain is mush and it’s so hard to think.

Something prods at his cheek and he grunts in annoyance. “No touchie…” he grumbles as he turns his head away. Finally, he forces his eyes open, only to immediately shut them as the sharp bright light stabs his retinas. He struggles to open them again and finds the world blurry. Two figures stand above him in the bright light.

Another voice speaks, coming and going like radio static. _“… auction toni… keep him stab… no fuck ups…”_

The faceless beings shift, and Peter shuts his eyes as the light blinds him again. Something brushes against his neck and his head lulls to the side (or did someone push him?). There’s a sharp pinch at his neck which immediately begins to burn.

Peter whimpers as the pain spreads, first burning then turning to ice in his veins. A warm hand presses to his forehead, fingers in his hair. Too large to be May’s. The calluses are unfamiliar and he doesn’t smell motor oil.

“Ben?” he tries opening his eyes again but finds it too difficult. Nothing cooperates the way it should and it terrifies him. Everything is wrong. The world warps and sounds distort. He feels like he’s both floating and falling, falling back into the dark. He doesn’t want to go back.

The last thing Peter hears is a voice floating above. _“Sleep, little spider.”_

* * *

The next time Peter wakes, he’s alone. The bright light is gone, replaced by a dull bulb that flickers every so often in the room. He’s laying on a cold table, wrists and ankles strapped down. It smells awful, like mildew and dust. He really hopes he isn’t breathing in asbestos. Bad guy lairs probably don’t care about building safety codes.

And just like that, everything comes rushing back. The tip about the drug deal. The dark van under a bridge. Some dude who called himself Blood Bender who could throw him like a rag doll.

Someone took his mask.

Peter’s breath hitches and he tugs at the straps around his wrists, panic growing more when the bonds don’t break. They barely budge. Not regular straps then, he thinks. Vibranium? But they look and feel like leather so leather-lined vibranium? The ones around his ankles feel the same. Its only then, as Peter looks down, he realizes his suit is gone too and he’s dressed in what looks like a hospital gown. The table is cold against his bare back, but he can tell he’s not totally naked beneath the gown. It brings little comfort.

_All right, Parker. Think over your options._

Kidnapped.

No mask which means who ever took him has seen his face.

The good news is his suit carries a tracker that connects directly to Mr. Stark.

Karen would have sent an alert out the moment he lost consciousness, meaning even if he couldn’t escape on his own, Mr. Stark would be able to find him. Peter much prefers the ‘escape on your own’ option over enduring the embarrassment of needing to be saved. 

The metal door squeaks open, and Peter cranes his head up to see the Big Guy enter the room. He’s pulling some sort of cart behind him with items Peter cannot quite see. After him comes Blood Bender with hardly an emotion on his face. After him is… Peter’s eyes widen.

“Y-You!”

“Hello Spider-Man. Nice seeing you again.” Scarf Guy says with a smirk. “So sorry about this little” – he waves his hand around – “inconvenience.”

“Kidnapping.” Peter corrects.

“But it’s your own fault really. Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” Scarf Guy turns his back to Peter as he fiddles around with the objects on the cart.

“You are so uncool.” Peter grumbles. He gives his bonds another experimental tug as he watches the other two in the room.

Big Guy stands near the door like a guard, his big arms folded across his chest. He’s watchful but otherwise uninterested. Blood Bender positions himself at Peter’s feet. The guy hasn’t spoken a word, only stares in a way that makes the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“And you,” Scarf Guy says. “are not what I expected at all. I mean” – he barks a laugh – “I certainly didn’t expect a kid. Guess I should have. They say the mutant gene starts showing around your age.” He turns and Peter’s stomach drops at the sight of the syringe in his hand. He squirms uselessly on the table as Scarf Guy gets closer, eyes trained on the syringe in his hand. The back of his neck burns, sense screaming at him to get away, to find a way out.

“Hold him still.” Scarf Guy orders and suddenly, Peter can’t move.

He tries, his limbs shaking as he tries fighting off the terrifying force over him. Peter glances down to see Blood Bender still staring him down, one hand extended and palm flat.

“W-Wait hold on! Isn’t there a form or something I have to sign?” Peter’s words tumble from his mouth in poorly hidden panic. “Consent or whatever? Because I totally don’t remember signing anything.”

He grunts as his arm twists uncomfortably to press down against the table. He feels the chill of an alcohol wipe swipe against the crux of his arm. His senses are on fire and he can’t move.

“No sign means no stick, dude! Hey, can’t you hear me? I said no – _ow!_ ” Peter hisses as the hypodermic needles pierces his skin. “Ouch. Zero starts for bedside manner.”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Scarf Guy grumbles as he draws blood.

“Nope,” – Peter winces as the needle withdraws – “It’s part of my charm.”

As Scarf Guys returns to the cart, he feels the force holding him suddenly left go. It leaves him with a kind of bond deep exhaustion that reminds him of stretches he had to do in drama class during freshman year. Before the bite. He exhales a sigh and looks down at the foot of the table, seeing Blood Bender still standing there, hand now no longer extended. He’s still staring like a total creeper.

“So,” – Peter licks his lips nervously – “what’s with Copyright down there? Is it like mind control? Body control? Or can he seriously control blood like in the TV show?”

Movement catches his attention, and he watches as a thin line of blood rises from the needle mark on his arm. It glistens as it wobbles in flickering light, suspended above his arm. Despite it being his own blood (and realizing he’s right about the guy), Peter can’t help but stare with morbid fascination.

“Whoa.” He watches Blood Bender flick his wrist and the blood falls, leaning a line of red across Peter’s arm. He winkles his nose at it. “Ugh. Couldn’t you have put it back in?”

“He could.” Scarf Guy replies instead. “He could also stop your heart. Or burst a blood vessel in your brain.”

“Oh that’s… scary.” Peter looks down at Blood Bender again. The guy resumes his previous statue like position with hardly an emotion on his face. Super creepy.

A noise suddenly echoes behind the closed door. It’s far off but loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room. All save for Blood Bender who keeps staring at the wall behind Peter.

“Marcus, go see what that was.” Scarf Guy orders. The Big Guy – Marcus – nods and heads out into the hallway. The door doesn’t close behind him and a second later, there’s a loud pop!

Gunshot.

Instantly, Peter thinks it’s the cops. Immediately after that, he hopes it isn’t the police because while he isn’t wearing his suit, he knows it’s somewhere nearby. Last thing he needs is the cops figuring out Spider-Man’s identity.

The door suddenly slams open and bounces loudly on the wall. It's not the cops.

“Honey, I’m home!” a guy in a red and black suit cheerfully shouts. 

Several things happen after that.

Scarf Guys shouts at Blood Bender to do something. Blood Bender barely manages to turn when another shot rings out in the room. Peter flinches, his ears ringing, and he watches as Blood Bender falls limp. He doesn’t get up.

“Shit!” Scarf Guy shoves the cart at Red Suit, who merely side steps to dodge it.

“Seriously? Blood Bender? Thought I was being fucked with when I heard that one.” Red Suit reloads his gun and aims it at Scarf Guy, who has his hands thrown into the air. Peter tries not to squirm too much on the table even as his senses go haywire. Everything about the guy in red screams danger, even louder than his would-be kidnappers.

About that time, Red Suit looks at him, causing Peter to freeze on the spot. “Hang tight, Bambi.” He says then returns his attention onto Scarf Guy. “Still in the mutant kid trafficking game, huh? Seriously, what is wrong with you guys? Find a hobby like spoon collecting or antiquing.”

Scarf Guy moves across the room suddenly, putting himself behind Peter in a move that makes the teen wonder what the guy’s plan is. Then he feels the sharp edge of a knife against his neck and oh, this is his plan.

“Come any closer and I’ll-“

_BANG!_

Peter’s eyes squeeze close as another gunshot rings out. Something warm sprays on his face and when he opens his eyes, Scarf Guy is gone. The sharp metallic smell hits his nose, and his stomach drops as he realizes what just happened.

“Y’know, maybe next time he should have a real meat shield instead of just standing behind a table with said meat shield on it.” Red Suit guy says as he holsters his gun.

“Y-You… You killed them.”

“And?” Red Suit walks over to where Blood Bender fell and crouches down out of Peter’s line of sight.

“You can’t do that. You shouldn’t.” Peter licks his lips nervously and tastes blood. His stomach rolls as he remembers it’s not his blood. Shit.

“ _Please_. I don’t need to hear another lecture about who to kill and who not to kill. I get plenty of bullshit from the X gang. Don’t need it from an infant.” Red Suit springs back up, going through a wallet he must have picked off Blood Bender. He pockets a couple bills and tosses the rest. “You should be grateful I found your ass so I believe what you want to say is ‘thank you’.”

Peter purses his lips, making the choice of saying nothing as he continues watching the guy. The hairs on his arms stand on end when Red Suit gets closer to the table, senses shouting danger. Peter flinches when Red touches the straps around his ankles.

“I mean,” Red continues as he unbuckles the ankle straps. “I didn’t even have to be here. I’m following a completely different plot line that the author will be vague about.”

 _Huh?_ Peter frowns in confusion. What is this guy on?

Red hums a bouncy tune that sounds oddly familiar as Peter watches him, trying his best not to flinch when Red comes to the strap around his wrist. The guy just saved him, but Peter can’t ignore the serious off vibes about him. He remains tense, expecting something to happen. Nothing ever does.

Red frees one of his wrists then decides Peter can take it from there, as pickpocketing the now dead Scarf Guy is much more interesting. He’s still humming while doing it.

“Did,” – Peter hops off the table after freeing himself, putting it between himself and Red – “Are they all-“

“Yep.” Red Suit pops the p as he stands, Scarf Guy’s wallet in hand. “Dead as doornails. Totally Unalive. Worm food.”

Peter frowns. Despite himself, he can’t help looking at the other end of the table and seeing Blood Bender’s feet on the ground. It is naïve to believe everyone could have come out unscathed. Taking life never sat well with him and yet there is a shameful part of him that is glad they are gone. Whatever operation they had going was seriously bad news and Peter was nearly victim to it. Still, the knowledge they were all dead leaves an uncomfortable feeling in Peter’s gut.

“Spider-Man.”

Peter freezes. A chill rolls down his spine and he swallows past the rising panic as he turns to see Red holding something in his hand.

“Spider-Man’s blood, huh?” Red Suit Guy casually tosses the vial into the air and catches it. “Wonder what someone would pay for this. Probably worth a lot of money, don’t you think?” Red looks at him and Peter feels the color drain from his face as he stares into the soulless white eyes of Red’s mask. “Spider-Man?”

Breath catches in his throat. Peter takes a step forward, “Don’t-“

Quicker than Peter can blink, Red aims a gun at Peter’s head. He didn’t even see the guy pull it from it’s holster. “Don’t try me, Bambi.” Red spins the vial of blood between his fingers with this free hand, thumb running against the piece of masking tape that reads ‘Spider-Man’ on the side. “Oh man, I’ve waited a long time to finally meet you. Big fan, though,” – Red tilts his head and sighs, like he’s disappointed – “Didn’t think you were a kid. Thought you’d at least have a five o’clock shadow.”

“I’m sixteen.” Peter says before he can stop himself. He snaps his mouth shut, ears growing hot as Red laughs.

“Wow! Practically a man, huh?” Red chuckles. “Good to know there’s more than one rich guy out there recruiting kids.”

A flare of hot anger rises in Peter’s chest. The very same that always sparks whenever someone makes a snide comment about Tony. “Mr. Stark is a good guy.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch! Sheesh. I got nothing against your irondaddy. Yet.” Red says and Peter doesn’t take comfort in that ‘yet’.

Red stares at him for the longest time. Peter tries not to fidget, which is extremely difficult to do while some weirdo is pointing a gun at his head. The tingling in the back of his skull becomes nearly painful as Red steps forward. Peter steps backwards and bumps into the table behind him.

Then Red sighs. “Lucky for you,” he says as he lowers the gun. “I’ve got better things to do besides babysit.”

“This feels less like babysitting and more like prolonged captivity.” Peter points out. His eyes dart to the vial of blood still in Red’s other hand, his mind moving quickly to come up with a plan on exactly how he could get it.

Red laughs and waves his gun dismissively. “What is babysitting if not holding a child hostage until their parental figure of authority picks them up?”

Maybe if Peter could find his webshooters, he could snatch it away before Red makes his escape. Or, seeing how close Red is now, he could just make a grab for them. Red guy is fast but Peter’s sure he can be faster.

“Plus, there’s one more thing in common.” Red pauses and Peter stares at him as he waits for the man to continue. An uncomfortable silence lengthens between them and now Peter does fidget.

“Wha-“

“Nap time!”

Peter’s sense spikes high suddenly, too late, as a rush of red and black head straight for him. Pain explodes in his head then he knows nothing more.

* * *

Peter wakes later with a dull headache and opens his eyes to the night sky. There are a few wisps of clouds and he thinks even a couple of stars that shine bright enough to make it through the haze of city lights.

His hand goes to his face and stills, his eyes growing wide as he feels the smooth texture of his mask. Heart leaps into his throat as he bolts upright then closes his eyes as an intense wave of dizziness threatens to knock him on his ass again.

“Ow…” he groans as he cradles his head in his hand. The faint memory of that time he swung right into the side of a brick wall immediately springs to mind.

Peter opens his eyes again to find not only is he wearing his mask, but he’s back in his suit as well. “When did this happen?” he mutters to himself. Confusion laces with panic as he struggles to recall. The last thing he remembers is being kidnapped and held hostage by a walking copyright lawsuit. Then being saved by some dude with swords.

Who then must have knocked him out.

And then found his suit and dressed him in it.

“Kind of creepy but okay.” Peter says. “Okay, so where did you bring me…?”

If the smell of wet garbage and brine tells him anything, he’s near the docks. The sudden blaring horn of a tugboat sounding behind him only confirms this theory while also scaring the daylights out of him in the process. Peter exhales a sigh, his hand falling away from his racing heart.

“Holy shit.” he breathes, and a borderline hysterical giggle passes his lips at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. He takes the mask off and runs his hand through his curly hair.

Something red in the corner of his eyes and he turns, brows drawing together as he spots a… Happy Meal box? A folded-up piece of paper is tapped with by a Hello Kitty sticker to the side with the words ‘SPIDEY’ written in purple crayon.

“What the hell?” Peter pulls the little box into his lap. He intends on reading the note first before opening it, but the smell of food quickly grabs his attention. Inside, he finds a couple of cheeseburgers, fries, sliced apples, and box of apple juice. It’s all cold now, but it doesn’t stop the gnawing hunger in his belly making itself known with a grumbling reminder he hasn’t eaten since before he was taken. Faintly, he hears the voices of Aunt May, Tony, and even Captain America warning him not to eat food from strangers. By the time he fully comprehends that advice, Peter has a mouthful of fries and is in the process of unwrapping one of the burgers.

Once the hunger beast is somewhat sated, Peter moves on to the note. He unfolds it to find it covered with more glittery stickers and the same purple crayon handwriting.

_‘To Spider –  
Hope you’re hungry! (it’s not poisoned, not a monster) Took the toy. Sorry not sorry but left another surprise at the bottom! You’re welcome. Let’s hang out sometime!! Want an autograph next time we meet!_

_# 1 fan!!!! ♥  
\- Deadpool’_

Peter frowns at the implication he’ll meet Deadpool again. Dude is crazy weird and dangerous. He did save Peter though so, maybe he isn’t all that bad.

_Another surprise at the bottom._

He peers into the Happy Meal box again and takes out the remaining contents until only a few fries were at the bottom and… a vial of blood. Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh.” He takes it out to hold it up in the security light. Still looks the same as before. Doesn’t look like any is missing.

“Okay so… maybe not so awful.” Peter says with some amount of uncertainty. He glances around for any sign of the red masked vigilante but sees no one. He doesn’t sense anything either, only his hunger and headache.

“Ugh that’s a lot I don’t want to think about right now.” Peter puts the blood vial back into the box, switching it for one of the cold fries at the bottom. “Least I can tell Mr. Stark not to worry about my DNA getting out on the market, so, there’s that.” And just like that, cold reality hits him. “Oh man, I totally missed curfew. Aunt May is probably freaking out.”

The sound of familiar repulsors hum through the air and Peter feels dread settle in his belly as he spots the Iron Man suit cutting across the skyline, heading right for him. Suddenly he regrets eating anything.

“Okay, Parker, you’ve got forty-five seconds to get your story together.” Peter shifts to stand, red box in hand. “Maybe if it’s good enough, they’ll only ground you for a couple weeks.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- The song Deadpool is humming is 'Wannabe' by Spice Girls


End file.
